


Drinking Rum Out of Pumpkins

by TheLanceShow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkwardness, Bad Flirting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Flirting, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Lance (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Military Backstory, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Oblivious Shiro (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Study Date, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 21:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanceShow/pseuds/TheLanceShow
Summary: There's a Halloween party that Romelle throws every year.Lance wants to invite Shiro, and he manages to do so.Also he kind of loves him? But that obviously has nothing to do with it.'Cause, you know, Shiro wants to fuck Keith.





	Drinking Rum Out of Pumpkins

**Author's Note:**

> *cautiously pushes this into the Internet and runs away, thinking about all of the multi chapter fics I haven't written*
> 
> *realizes that even my halloween fic is late*
> 
> *cries*

It’s not like it’s _hard_ , you know?

 

He doubts Shiro is gonna blatantly say _no_ . He has no reason to, at least, from what Hunk told him. And, it’s fine if he _does_ say no, okay? Lance doesn’t have his hopes up either way, so it’s cool. It’s _fine_ , it’s _whatever_ , he doesn’t _care_ all that much.

 

Denial is something Lance is _very_ familiar with when it comes to Shiro.

 

Yeah, adding to the whole _Shiro-doesn’t-like-me-despite-what-Hunk-says_ situation, this is the last day Lance can invite him. He has to RSVP the amount of people by today, and Romelle’s agitated message burns a hole in his back pocket. She’s aware that Lance is going even if Shiro says no, but she also needs to know if _Shiro_ is _going or not._

 

And, get this!

 

He’s pretty sure Keith and Shiro are fucking.

 

Maybe Shiro would RSVP himself if he actually _planned_ on it, right? It’s like, if he _wanted_ to really go, he would have already said as much. So, yeah, he doesn’t wanna go and that’s _completely_ fine. Besides, maybe Hunk only asked Keith because Shiro didn’t wanna go.

 

Lance turns on his heel as soon as he spots Shiro at the small table in the Starbucks. Keith is sitting there with him for some reason, despite the fact that he wasn’t _invited_ . Honestly, like Lance needs a fucking _audience_ for him making an _entire_ fool out of himself. Keith never meets with them for their study sessions, so why is he here _today?_

 

He hadn’t even _planned_ on getting a drink today. His stomach is absolutely _not_ happy with the anxiety his brain is providing. It twists and grumbles as he makes his way to the counter. It’s nearly empty, the Starbucks, no line because of the dangerous wind levels outside. Lance applauds the employees because fuck knows he wouldn’t be working today.

 

The guy at the counter looks high, shoulders drooping and eye whites pink. He grins dopily at Lance and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. Just barely, but he counts it as a win.  


“Welcome to Starbucks, dude, what do you want?” he says slowly, as if he’s calculating what he’s saying a little too hard. “Eat, drink, something.”

The guy coughs and Lance gives a startled laugh when a puff of smoke makes its way out of his mouth. _Rolo_ , his name tag reads.

 

“Can I just get a, um,” Lance pauses, scanning the menu as he pulls his wallet out from his back pocket, “venti nitro cold brew?”

 

“Bro, it’s so cold outside,” Rolo says with a squint. Lance raises his eyebrows, definitely conveying the _and?_ that went unsaid. “All right, man.”

 

As Rolo punches in the numbers, Lance pulls out his Starbucks card. It’s the customized one that Shiro had gotten him for his birthday.

 

The background is a picture of the both of them with a cup each of hot mocha from this very cafe. They’re smiling broadly, Lance flushing from being so close to Shiro, and Shiro from the cold. Snow litters Shiro’s hat and Lance’s hair. Shiro’s coated arm is flung around Lance’s shoulders, holding him _tight,_ with Lance gripping his waist. Their drinks are raised in a silent toast.

 

 _“So you’ll always remember our study sessions,”_ Shiro had said. It was _stupid_ reasoning to Lance, but he figures Shiro just likes the picture, and so does Lance so it’s _fine_ , right?

 

“We don’t have that in our system yet,” Rolo says, “but we have the machine and shit so, I dunno. Don’t worry about paying for it.”

 

Lance blinks at him before grinning, putting the card away. He says a thanks and Rolo nods with a stoned smile, before trotting away. Lance pockets the wallet once more and before he knows it, Rolo waves him down to the other side of the counter. The coffee is served in a glass that makes it look like a dark beer.

 

“Thanks, dude,” Lance says. He picks it up and sips, humming low in his throat. Sweet and bitter, the best oxymoron that Lance knows. It slides down smoothly. “You’re the best.”

 

“It’s no problem,” Rolo says.

 

Lance raises his glass before turning around.

Shiro and Keith are still there, whispering intensely. And Shiro’s _blushing_ , which is _another_ reason why Lance is _sure_ he _doesn’t like him!_ Lance _swears_ sometimes he thinks Shiro just tongues Keith’s asshole with how much he takes his side on arguments. Even when Keith starts it, which, what the _fuck_ , man.

 

He walks over to them, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. He lets his shoulders droop, steps lazy as he approaches. He has to clear his throat for them to notice him. He sort of wishes he had caught whatever they were talking about. Shiro looks up at him and the blush _deepens_.

 

Maybe he thinks he _knows_ they’re together or something.

 

Ugh.  


“What’s Keith doing here?” Lance asks, not bothering to look at the man in question. Shiro smiles easily but it falters when Lance doesn’t return the gesture. Lance adjusts the backpack on his back.

 

“I was just taking shelter from the wind for a bit,” Keith says after a moment. Lance looks at him and raises an eyebrow when he shares a look with Shiro. From his peripheral, he can see Shiro turn hot pink rather than salmon.

 

_Jesus Christ, stop eye-fucking each other._

 

“Do you mind me being here?”

 

“Actually, can you sit somewhere else? I need to sit directly in front of Shiro,” Lance says. He takes a purposely _obnoxious_ sip of his coffee. Keith glares at him lightly before standing and moving away. Lance places his backpack on the floor next to the chair and sits before gently setting his coffee on the table.

 

When he sits, he makes eye contact with Shiro, and the flush _spreads_ to his neck and ears.

 

“What did you not understand from the last lesson?” Lance asks, unzipping his book bag and pulling out their statistics textbook. In class--the last one, at least--they went over standard deviation and histograms. Shiro had _never_ taken stats, not even in high school, so he practically _set himself up_ for failure.

 

And if he unzips the bag a _little_ aggressively, no-one has to worry about it.

 

“All of it,” Shiro says with a sigh. He pulls out a flimsy notebook, only weak because of how _hard_ Shiro presses down on paper. Which is _odd_ , because the books he doesn’t use with Lance are _fine_. “The last problem I did I got one-point-three, but the answer - “

 

“Was fifteen,” Lance finishes. “How did you even _get_ that?”

 

Shiro glowers down at the table and Lance can’t help but to laugh lightly. He forgets that Keith is _right there_ , _staring at them_ , until his poorly fashioned friend clears his throat.

 

“What are you doing for Halloween?” Keith asks Lance, crossing his arms. Is he _aware_ that he’s _interrupting_ Lance, who’s just _barely_ managing to exist with Shiro around? “I forgot.”

 

“I’ve told you, and Hunk invited you,” Lance says, irritation seeping into his tone. Can he _please_ just help Shiro? It’s not even _him_ being selfish this time; Shiro _genuinely_ needs help. He’s also trying to stall asking, so there’s that. Maybe Keith is doing him a favor. “I’m going to the Halloween party at Rom’s.”

 

“Ah,” Keith hums with a singular nod. Keith looks to Shiro, who has just flipped his notebook open. It’s almost as if he can sense when Keith wants his attention as he looks up. It’s so _gross_ . “What about _you_ , Shiro?”

 

“Uh, I dunno,” Shiro replies eloquently. Such beauty, such _grace_. “I was thinking about just staying home.”

 

“How about you,” Keith starts, _smirking_ at Lance. Oh, so he _knows_ . Hunk must’ve told him, because Lance is 100% sure he’s discrete with his infatuation. He only calls it infatuation because he’s afraid of calling it the _L-word_.

 

Even though that’s what it _is._

 

Still, Keith is a fucking _asshole_ -

 

“Shiro, I meant to ask you something,” Lance blurts _loudly_ , cutting off Keith. And _every_ conversation within a five mile radius. Shiro’s attention snaps to _him_ so quickly that Lance is afraid he got whiplash.

 

“Yeah?” he says in that _dumb_ , too-nonchalant voice of his. Lance wonders if he’s aware of _how_ terrible he is at it. “What’s up?”

 

Lance’s brain freezes and lets his mouth take control. Which, mind, is a _catastrophic_ mistake.

 

Always.

 

All the time.

 

“So, um, I’m _pretty_ sure you know about Rom’s Halloween party. Well, at least I would _hope_ you did, because I just told Keith _I_ was going. And I’m pretty sure you were there when she was _telling_ everyone about it? I’m not sure, but actually, I _am_ , and,” Lance _barely_ pauses to take in a gulp of air, “I was just sort of wondering if you’d like to _go?_ Like, _with_ me, maybe? Well, in general, that was what I meant, _ha-ha_ . But then I was like, if he _wanted_ to go he would’ve RSVP’d by now, you know? But _that_ didn’t happen and today is the last day for you to RSVP. Like, my reasoning is sound here, but I figured I wanted to try it _anyway_ . I also didn’t want _Keith_ to be here… when I… asked…”

 

Lance trails off, his cognitive function sending up urgent flares. He _swears_ his brain cell count dropped for a good thirty seconds into the negatives before it shot back up. _Oh boy_ , Keith is cackling in his hand, his stupid eyes gleaming in mirth. It figures that he would find his pain incredibly amusing. Lance is pretty sure he’d rather be outside, getting _murdered_ by the wind, than stay seated. He’s afraid to look at Shiro but, fuck, what’s the _worst_ that could happen?

 

He could have an aneurysm.

 

They really sneak up on ya.

 

“S-sure, yeah,” Shiro replies. Then Lance shifts his gaze to him and his own cheeks heat up. Shiro’s entire face is incredibly _red_ , his ears included, and it makes the scar across the bridge of his nose seem pale.

 

He looks adorable.

 

Then he ruins it with -

 

“Why not?”

 

Lance’s expression goes flat as he sighs and opens his book to the dog-eared page. “Don’t sound so excited.”

 

Because Shiro’s voice goes from _high-squeaky-excited_ to _it’s-whatever_ in two sentences. Which, hey, what the _fuck?_

 

Shiro fiddles with the worn edges of his notebook. Without looking up, he mumbles, “It’s just that I’ve never _been_ on,” he cuts himself off and Lance quirks an eyebrow.

 

On _what?_

 

“I’ve never been to one of her parties,” he finishes. The backtrack is insanely obvious but Lance lets it go. No, he won’t mention that Shiro went to Rom’s party last year. He’s a good friend like that, or whatever. “Don’t know how big it’ll be this year, either.”

 

He has a point on that one. Romelle wanted to loosen people up for their practice exams. In her mind, that meant, _let’s invite everyone we can on campus_ . Rom is also well-known for her parties. There was always someone at the door with copies of people’s IDs of everyone that is supposed to be there. Being invited was an honor, not so much if you weren’t even _allowed._

 

Plenty of people have gone up to everyone on the friend group to try to sauce their way into a party. It never _worked_ , considering only a select few of her friends had guaranteed access to her parties.

 

See: Lance, Allura, Shiro, Pidge, Matt, Keith, Hunk, and the coolest teacher they have, Coran.

 

Lotor used to be invited but, _uh_ , he went to jail for a while.

 

“Good point,” Lance agrees easily. He locates a problem on the page and grins up at Shiro. “Ready to begin?”

 

Shiro gives a reluctant sigh and picks up his pencil. His gaze flickers to Keith for a short second and Lance _bristles_ . Of course Keith being here would be a distraction. Because Shiro is absolutely in _love_ with him--which he doesn’t get _at all_ , like who would want _him?_ Probably not the best thing to think about a _friend_ , but right now he’s a _rival_ \--and Lance is just trying not to murder that mullet muddled monster that makes his man mumble murmurs of mock-worthy manifestations of magnificence.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

“Hey, _yeah_ , pay attention to me,” Lance says with a false cheeriness in his tone. It’s so obviously _fake_ that he can _taste_ saccharine on his tongue. “Gotta say, your boyfriend is important but _not so much_ that you need to stop learning for the moment.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” comes Shiro’s panicked yelp. He’s staring _intently_ into Lance’s eyes, a nervous _wreck_ that happened within the span of _five seconds_ . Even _Keith_ is raising his brows, though the rest of his face screams _you’re a moron_ rather than the _oh, he knows_ that Lance was expecting. “I’m not - we’re _not_ dating, Lance!”

 

“Why are you screaming,” Keith mutters.

 

Lance stares at him blankly for a moment, then, “‘Kay.” He looks back down at his book and taps the page, because there is no way in _Hell_ that means Shiro _isn’t_ in love with him.

 

Keith, that is.

 

This _sucks_.

  


The dangerous wind levels have gone down and most of the people in Starbucks have finally left. Really, Lance was looking towards tutoring Shiro is peace without the _constant_ blushing and quick glances to Keith. But _no_ , Keith is standing at the register _with_ Shiro, and they’re both muttering _stuff_ to each other.

 

Lance scowls, pulling his phone from his pocket. They had made _progress_ , yes, but they _barely_ scraped quartiles before Shiro declared he needed something strong to drink.

 

And _Keith_ tagged along.

 

[October 25][14:12][Me]

Shiros coming w me.

 

[October 25][14:13][Rom-Com]

Ruh roh, that didn’t look like a happy text

 

[October 25][14:13][Me]

I just don’t understand why tf keith is here for the tutoring session

He is such a lil beech

I need someone to suck my dick ASAP

 

[October 25][14:13][Rom-Com]

I’d be glad to babe

Just be hot n ready daddy

 

[October 25][14:14][Me]

oH WORD?

 

[October 25][14:14][Rom-Com]

*notices your bulge* OwO what’s this??

 

Lance is snickering, about to reply, when he hears the _unnecessarily_ aggressive cough from behind him. It _has_ to be Keith, considering he’s the only one that’s ever that abrasive for _no_ reason. But when Lance looks up and behind him, it’s _Shiro_. He has a mildly irked expression on his face.

 

What the _Hell_ is _his_ problem? Like he has _any_ right to even _be_ irritated.

 

“Are you done on your phone?” Shiro asks testily. Lance looks at him blankly, hiding his bafflement. Shiro's eyes flicker from Lance's phone to his face.

 

Ah, he was reading Lance's _texts_.

 

Why does he even _care_ , the damn _idio-_

 

“I didn't realize you got your coffee already, sorry,” Lance says slowly. “I was just _kidding_ around with Rom.”

 

Shiro hums, rounds the table to sit in front of Lance once more. Lance furrows his brows at the drink in Shiro's hand. It's purple with whipped cream that's topped with green powder. And are those… _green chia seeds?_

 

“The _fuck_ is that?” Lance asks. His own coffee is _long_ gone after he gulped it down with aggravation of Keith's sheer _presence_ . He's just now realizing how fucking _thirsty_ he is.

 

For water.

 

And _dick_.

 

“Witch's brew frap,” Keith answers _for_ Shiro. “It tastes like Fruity Pebbles.”

 

“So you tried it from Shiro's own?” Lance asks, managing to put on a small grin.

 

“No,” Shiro says. _Why_ do they keep answering each others’ sentences? It's _annoying_. “He's had it before.”

 

Lance nods before looking back down at his phone.

 

[October 25][14:17][Me]

Gtg gotta start tutoring again.

 

[October 25][14:17][Rom-Com]

Okie dokie papi

 

Then he looks up to find Shiro staring at him. Lance's gaze shifts to the drink, the inviting purple _singing_ to him. He bites his bottom lip in contemplation.

 

He _really_ wants a sip.

 

But Shiro has already put his mouth on it.

 

“Wanna try it?” Shiro asks, sliding the cup over to him smoothly. “You're giving it sex eyes.”

 

“Would you like to _see_ my sex eyes?” Lance purrs, smirking and raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause that _definitely_ wasn't it.”

 

Shiro flushes, making a vague strangled sound as he picks up his pencil. Keith gives a _put-upon_ sigh and crosses his arms.

 

“Thanks, Shiro,” Lance says, but it's _fonder_ than he wants it to be. In turn, the man is steadily turning even _more_ red, so who is _he_ to complain?

 

Lance takes a pull of the drink, then an even _longer_ one. When he swallows, he makes a content sound.

 

“Fruit Loops,” he declares. “It _definitely_ tastes like Fruit Loops.”

 

“No-” Keith starts, before Shiro _cuts him off._

 

“I agree, actually,” Shiro says, for _once_ defending Lance's honor. Oh, what _joy_. “It's closer to that.”

 

Lance slides the drink back to him with a pleased rumble that comes from his throat,  like he's a _cat_ or something. And honestly, he doesn't wanna be _that_ person, but having Shiro's spit in his mouth is kind of _amazing_.

 

And kind of gross.

 

Really gross.

 

 _Sorry_.

 

Shiro licks his lips and nearly sips before his face abruptly turns an even _more_ endearing shade of pink.

 

“You drank from the straw?” he asks slowly. He won't make eye contact, though, like a _major_ pussy.

 

“Yeah?” Lance answers, just as slowly. Two can play at this game.

 

What _game?_

 

Who knows.

 

“W-why didn't you drink from the side?”

 

“Shiro, maybe I just wanted your saliva in my mouth.”

 

(Is what Lance _wanted_ to say.)

 

“Why is it a big deal?” he inquires instead. He shrugs like the little shit he is, grinning mischievously--the one Hunk says is _trouble doubled_ \--and opening the math textbook. “We've been friends for years. Does it really matter?”

 

Maybe Lance would believe Shiro likes him if he would _stop_ fucking _looking_ at Keith.

 

“What, does _Keith_ mind if I've had your spit in my mouth?” Lance carries on, allowing the beat of silence to give him _more_ time to talk. “Because, _really_ , it's an _experience-_ ”

 

Keith abruptly tugs arms up--rather, _tries_ to. A bitter expression flashes across Lance's face, and Keith seems to see it, for he lets go _real_ _fast_. For one, Lance has more muscle weight since his time in the military, so it was probably difficult to try to pry him from his chair.

 

Two?

 

Lance _can't_ handle being shoved about without warning anymore.

 

(And, shit, he didn't know a war would start when he enrolled. Then again, who ever did?

 

He had barely remembered finishing basic before they were lining people out. The name _Private McClain_ or _Soldier McClain_ would truly be ingrained into his head for the rest of his days. He would finally feel like he _earned_ it.

 

Hearing his commanding officer bark his name was... _different_ than hearing the panicked shouts of his comrades doing so.

 

He can still hear them sometimes.

 

He served four years; long enough for him to fight from the beginning to the end.

 

Three years of being repeatedly kidnapped and beat upon. A victory won on a shot he made that somehow made him a _hero_ . Because he _ended_ the war, they claimed.

 

An honorable discharge.

 

A ceremony for the fallen soldiers.

 

One for the innocent.

 

One for the veterans.

 

He came home at 22 with a few gray hairs, broken yet taken care of ribs, a fractured arm, some scars, and PTSD.

 

His dog tag is _heavy_ on his collarbone.)

 

“Can we _talk_ for a second?” Keith says tightly, jerking his head towards the door. Lance squints before he nods and pushes out from the table. Because who is _he_ to refuse a request from the _king?_ Shiro would scold him if he didn't, _any_ way. We _never_ pick favorites in _this_ group, no _way_.

 

Lance follows Keith outside, a slight frown tugging at his lips. His arm is numb in the area Keith touched him. His therapist says it's a _neurological response_ and his brain is _freaking out_ from sudden pressure. She claims it helped him survive the war.

 

Then she saluted.

 

(You're not supposed to salute indoors.)

 

“Lance?”

 

He blinks, and his gaze settles back on Keith. He must have zoned out, then. His friend is giving him a concerned look. It would be amplified if Keith didn't know that Lance _despises_ pity. That didn't stop his voice from becoming _ooey-gooey_ soft.

 

“What's up?” Lance drawls, crossing his arms. Then he plays with his tag, immediately uncomfortable.

 

“Shiro thinks _you_ think we're dating,” Keith informs.

 

Like a _dumbass_.

 

“No _shit_ , Sherlock,” Lance leers, throwing out an exaggerated movement of his hand. “ _And?”_

 

“ _And_ ,” Keith stresses, “we aren't.”

 

“Riddle me this, then. Why are you both mentally fingering each other assholes _all the time?”_

 

Keith takes a shocked step backwards. “ _What?”_

 

“I'm, like, ninety-five percent sure that he wants in your _pants_ , Keith,” Lance whispers hotly. There is absolutely _no_ way that Keith _doesn't_ see this. “Whenever he's around you, he _blushes_ . And he'll keep fucking _looking_ at you. Which is, _hey_ , distracting because he somehow doesn't know what a fucking _quartile_ is.”

 

“It's because he's embarrassed, you moron,” Keith snaps. “Because…”

 

“Because _what?”_

 

“I can't backtrack on that, huh?” Keith says, running a hand through his hair. “Shiro likes you, dude.”

 

Lance stares at him blankly. He's _not_ an idiot and he knows that. He's actually pretty damn smart, thank you _very_ much. That definitely makes Keith the stupid one here, because, _hello_ , no he _fucking_ _doesn't!_

 

“No? No,” says Lance with a glare. “There's _no_ way he does. If he did, then he wouldn't act the way he tends to.”

 

“He just doesn't want me to give him away,” Keith says, cocking his head towards Shiro. Lance peers at him as well to find him staring at them through the glass from the table. Shiro proceeds to turn red. “ _See?”_

 

“Bull _shit_ .” Lance lets go of his dog tag to place his hands on his hips. He _swears_ he's not usually such a callous _asshole_ towards Keith. _Seriously_ , despite everything, Keith is his _friend!_ He's just been having a bad week, _all right?!_ “If you really want me to stop implying that y'all are fucking then I'll stop. But don't fucking _lie_ to me, all right?”

 

Lance _calmly_ enters the shop, forcing his shoulders to drop. He's tense, _yes_ , but maybe Keith shouldn't _blatantly lie_ to his face like that. There's always _that_ option. It's not like he could just _tell_ Lance they're not _dating_ , or in _love_ , or _what-fucking-ever_.

 

And so, Lance slips into the seat across from Shiro. He gazes out of the window for a moment and watches as Keith angrily stomps towards his motorcycle.

 

At least a _proper_ tutoring session can take place, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Comment ig 
> 
> Rlly sorry. Got hit with the largest writers block fucking ever.


End file.
